Run Fast, Stand Still
by Midsummer Eve
Summary: I am an agent standing between the roads of vengeance & felicity. Until the day I can find myself, and the blood stained river stops running, my love will remain hidden. But for her, I will stand still, just this once. NxM. For NatsumeSeries Contest.


This is an entry to NatsumeSeries Contest. Submission starts on June 21 and ends on July 21. For further information on the contest, contact Vione or Romantically Loveless.

**Disclaimer: **Gakuen Alice and its characters belong to Higuchi Tachibana. It is an insoluble fact; however, I do not dare grapple with their characters without my own deplorable soul's arrest. So sue me.

I am much obliged to you for having the audacity to read my junk. I was intrigued by the idea of a secret agent, and this story just paid me a visit. I can't help but continue. It's the least I could do for _this_ Natsume, and for myself (since my usual routine was inexorably disrupted by him). Enjoy.

* * *

**RUN FAST, STAND STILL**

**Memories By The Bonfire River**

_A river isn't a river when it's not running; when it does stop, it becomes a waterfall like our tears._

Midsummer Eve

AU, Non-Alice, OOC, Romance, Crime, Family, Humor, Drama, Mystery

* * *

Eleven years ago twenty-one people were found dead by the Bonfire River. I was ten years old, and among the victims was my father.

He was the only person I cared for, the most important person in the world to me. Not once did I shed a tear. Anger wouldn't let me. I just naturally started hating that river. Since that day, I couldn't stop running. It's what I do as a secret agent of the special task force.

Each one of us has something we're after, but inside of me runs blood possessed by vengeance itself.

This grudge is what I live for.

o~o

As the ashen-grey clouds hung low and covered the mountain peaks north of the drunken trees, the old road separating this landscape from the southern forest teemed with annoying journalists and wide-eyed countryside onlookers.

Eleven years have passed. Another victim was found murdered near the Bonfire River, incarcerated in the same way my father was – multiple stab wounds and two gun shots to the head right through the eye sockets. I couldn't shake off the sickening feeling of nostalgia. Whoever committed the crime _must_ be the same person responsible for the death of my father.

But this in itself is not an answer.

For the purpose of finding and killing the person who ruined my life, I joined the Special Task Force Unit of Trentic City: an elite group of agents with special abilities assigned to keep the gangs within the city from putting each other to instinction. Nobody knew of our true identities except a handful with high positions in the government.

We are also responsible for punishing gangs who involve the innocent, and the victim today was confirmed to be an ordinary citizen. Hence, our team had been assigned to investigate the case after the usual investigators leave the site which they did over an hour ago. Our methods are unorthodox, but that is a different matter altogether.

What's important is that I just took one big step towards discovering the identity of my father's murderer. How I've longed for this day.

For the first time in many years, I could feel my blood boiling with excitement – and, most of all, fear. Crouching quietly on the branch of a decaying tree, camouflaged by the thick leaves of the tree, I peered through my special binoculars and adjusted the hearing-range amplifier attached to my ear. I could see and hear everything within 5-miles.

"Oh! Move aside people, I'm entering the crime scene!" blurted out a lean, loquacious sandy-haired young man. His age couldn't have been far from mine. The people around him, ordinary people and officers alike, looked at him as if he had been talking to a ghost. He was facing my direction which was too much of a coincidence to discount.

That weird man couldn't have seen me, could he?

I've tried to make myself scarce by remaining in an isolated spot, and it's at a rank deep enough in the woods that no ordinary person could possibly see me; the last thing I needed was having my identity revealed. "How troublesome," I uttered out loud, something that should have stayed in my thoughts. For that man to know my location would be next to impossible considering the distance; yet, despite my anecdotal self-assurances, I feel an unnerving knot form at the pit of my stomach.

I continued to observe the man.

Under the sun's glare, his black shades glistened, and he waved at an officer talking seriously on his walkie talkie, as though they were friends. The officer looked startled for a minute, but waved back hesitantly. The weird man carried himself with an air of jaunty delight, not bothered by the presence of ambulances and police cars aligned at the ridge of the road. He wore the all-too familiar black overalls and vest worn exclusively by the crime scene investigation team.

He chatted with an officer guarding the yellow and black tape that was barring a section of the road to outsiders. The officer, with a small nod, lifted the tape and allowed him entry; to my surprise, the officer even lifted one hand over his forehead to salute. Who was this man?!

Quirking a brow at the man jogging rapidly down the slope from the road, I watched him stroll across the bed of dried leaves and weeds covering the dry ground that led to _my_ side of the forest. He looked around to make sure nobody followed him.

With a swing of his heavy-looking kit, he used it to force his way between the thick shrubs that hindered entry to the dense forest. He walked about ten meters away from the crowded precinct, halted, and without a shadow of hesitation casually laid his kit on the ground.

After a brief stretch of his arms, all the while whistling a jolly tune you'd only hear in an amusement park ride full of creepy dolls singing "It's A Small World", he plucked his shades off his freckled face. Immediately, I recognized him. I leaped from my hiding place, and as he whipped around, I took the chance to render him frigid with one penetrating glare.

"CSI Kokoro Yome. You're as indiscreet as I last remember. Why you're trying to act cool with that shades don't bother explaining. I didn't recognize you for a second."

Relaxing, Kokoro grinned at my vehemence. "You're as scary as ever. I don't wear shades everyday, so of course you won't recognize me, _Special Agent_ Natsume Hyuuga."

I stood there for a long time, stunned at how casually he mentioned my whole name.

"Bastard. Don't say my whole name in broad daylight. I'm addressed merely as Natsume. Nothing more," I said, irritably, stepping forward.

He back tracked several paces, but gathered himself and drew a sheepish smile.

"Ha-ha, Who cares? Even if someone found out, your uncle has enough political influence and power to make anyone shut up all the way to the grave," said he, in a matter-of-fact voice. He threw me a shady glance, drowning out what would have been the merry sounds of nature. I hated it when someone looked at me that way.

"He really cares for you, that gentle uncle of yours. Nobody would think he owns half of the state's major private establishments. Can I have him?" The last line had some meaning to it even though it was delivered as a joke. Typical Kokoro.

"You talk boldly for someone who's not even an official member of the CSI," I said, flatly. "How'd you weasel your way in?"

Kokoro didn't seem offended. After all, no man who knew the truth would cower needlessly, and I for sure, told the truth. He is a member of the biggest gang in Trentic City, one of the few complex cities left in the world where gang heads run the government and a criminal justice system is almost non-existent. Even the crime scene investigation teams roll on the palms of corruption. For decades the city has been a natural war zone: the strong preside over the weak - a gangsta's paradise.

Yet even the most dangerous cities need some sort of order. The highest officials, with the exception of the mayor, are comprised of different representatives from the biggest factions as part of a compromise proposed by the neighboring cities and the higher government.

Considered to be the dragon head among these factions was the much feared, "Black Vanguards".

"Your uncle. Who else could it be, hah? He's not the head of the Black Vanguards just for show, is he?" answered Kokoro in a tone sated with respect and admiration for the man, as one would expect from a loyal subordinate.

"What he does is none of my business." I replied, to which Kokoro shook his head to convey his apparent disappointment. He still couldn't accept my wish to avenge my father; someone like him, including uncle, would never understand. With the privilege of access to every hideout, I'd know I'd be able to find the answers to my father's murder. Nobody could stop me from finishing what I've started. "Honestly, Natsume, it's thanks to your uncle that you're able to do all this. Someday the old man's time will come and _you_ will take his place."

"I'm not interested."

"It's about time you should. He's got guts working with the mayor and associating with the police for the sake of turning this city around ever since _that_ incident. To think his only heir, the cute little nephew he adores, is playing agent somewhere to get revenge for something that's long in the past. How far are you going to chase something that's supposed to be behind you?" Kokoro argued uneasily, bending over to open the kit he had planted on the ground, and pulling out a light-weight silver pistol. He stood and turned to me, thrusting the gun into my hand, his eyes flashing. "Your uncle requested that I give you this. It's an awesome model. Nobody will hear a thing when it's fired."

I studied the gun that lay peacefully on my hand, tracing the smooth contours of it with one finger. There I saw embellished on the handle were my initials; uncle must have made it just for me. "Looks good."

He shrugged petulantly. "What you do is your call, but at least make my work a little easier. Looking after you is like trying to get a girlfriend to forgive me!"

Kokoro has been a good friend to me, but I never shared his sense of humor – nor do I appreciate his non-stop yammering, despite my being used to it. Moreover, I don't know what in the world he was talking about. Girlfriends are for people who had no problems, like Kokoro. I had more important matters to take care of. "Where are the bullets?"

"The spares have been loaded. The rest will arrive by cargo tonight. I'll personally give them to you so keep your hotel window open," he confirmed, shrugging.

"The others are probably wondering where I disappeared to again," I explained, suddenly remembering I was in the middle of an investigation myself.

"You always disappear. They should be used to it."

I bade a gesture of farewell. "See you, Kokoro."

To this abrupt declaration he reacted rather unexpectedly, and the sunny mood drained from his expression. "You could at least show a little concern towards me! I haven't seen you for a while and that's all you say to me?!"

With the gun safely tucked in one of the secret compartments of my special operations uniform, a morel-colored garb made from synthetically-made bullet proof fibers which didn't shy far away from Kokoro's CSI uniform, I could have jumped away and raced back to the site. But I figured a short exchange wouldn't hurt.

"Fine, how's life pretending to be normal?"

"What are you implying?"

"You read my mind. That's how you found me, didn't you?" I said, running a hand through my hair impatiently. "You should really join my unit instead of parading as a CSI. We could use your mind-reading skills in our team."

Kokoro shook his head and crossed his arms. I demonstrated little interest. "Whatever. No can do, Natsume. If we stay in the same branch, it would be harder to watch your back. I'd rather stay in the background and watch you from afar. It's easier to protect you from there."

A steeled, alert expression dawned on Kokoro for an instant but was quickly followed by a lazy smile. He stared at something behind me. I turned to look but nobody was there - only a flabbergasted bird halting between a patch of wild grass, a worm desperately wriggling in its beak. Beyond it the domain of tall white-trunked trees speckled with the lustre of brownish tinges looked nothing out of the ordinary. A keen and crisp scent lingered in the air, yet nothing to get distracted by.

"What were you looking at?" I finally moved my attention back to Kokoro, who had hunched over his kit to close it.

"Nothing," he said, vaguely, standing up and grabbing the kit by the handle. I didn't believe him. There was a distinguishable curve at the corner of his mouth, an involuntary habit he exhibits when something is up.

"Don't joke around," I warned, not finding his feat particularly amusing.

"I'm not," said he, averting my suspicious gaze, and pursing his lips. "Just your old buddy pondering over your need for someone to watch your back. Even you're not that invincible."

I glanced at my watch and decided to drop the matter. The other members of the unit were probably looking for me at this point. I've been gone from the site too long.

"You don't have to put yourself in danger for my sake," I sighed. Kokoro always seemed to carry this unwavering obligation to keep me safe, probably because my uncle passed him the chore of being my guardian. This persistent trait of his always annoyed me. I didn't want to go through losing someone again, I thought, clasping one hand over forehead and sliding it downward, exasperated. "I don't need you."

Kokoro made no answer, and we dwelled in awkward silence. It was only when he brought a hand to cover his mouth, staring at something over my shoulder, did I hear the scrunching footsteps behind me. When I turned around it was too late. A shockingly familiar skinny, long-haired woman flew toward me, the impact sending us both asprawl on the ground.

"Blaaargh!" I bellowed in the midst of Kokoro's dreadful chortles. I knew he knew the woman was there from the beginning. "Kokoro, you lying bastard! When I get my hands on..."

"Black Kittyyyyy!" the woman squealed, interrupting as she flung light soft arms around my neck, the pressure tight enough to strangle me. I recognized this auburn flowing hair, unpredictable strength and this disturbing aura of mind-numbing jubilance anywhere. I didn't have time to react. The next thing I felt was my head rubbing against the thorny shrubs, my back pinned firm on the ground by a woman whose face was mere inches away from mine.

My head reeled for a moment, and when I got a glimpse of her deep russet eyes, my body instantly went stiff.

This plain-looking woman around my age, with hair the color of a tree trunk tumbling loose over her frail shoulders and softly brushing her face, was named Mikan Sakura.

Beneath her tender brows were long-lashes that stayed put where they are, batting only as a reflex but no hidden meaning to it; besides her medium height, skeleton body, baby face and signature dumb look - her one striking feature would have to be those deep, penetrating eyes. This woman was the newest and most irritating recruit in the history of our special task force team given the codename: _Baby Face_.

She was the repulsive, energetic creature assigned to be my partner.

"So this is where you're lurking, you disobedient secretive kitty!" Baby Face scolded, hovering over me negligently and refusing to let go of my neck. I could feel her warm, excited breath spread over my jugular, reaching down the spot where it tickled. For a while, it didn't feel bad – at all. But when what felt like lips brushing touched my lobe, thousands of electric currents rushed through every piece of my being, and this alien sensation prompted me back to reality.

Mikan had me straddled between her thighs, and, even though she looked like a man in her uniform, which was replica of mine – a woman is still a woman. Her very scent and movement, atop me of all places, made it incredibly hard to breathe. She is, after all, even more than being my official task force partner - someone I couldn't ignore.

What's worse, this was all happening in front of _that_ Kokoro.

"It's Black Cat, get it _right_ already!" I scowled, roughly pushing her away, still feeling the rousing pressure of her weight. She tumbled backwards, shocked at such mistreatment, propping herself up with her hands. I turned away, inwardly embarrassed.

"Natsume, you're such a meanie! Can't you take a joke? And to think a helpless damsel in distress like me traveled all this way to find you!" she sniffled. I fought the urge to smack her, fully aware she's playing around.

"Moron. In which planet are you a damsel?" I retorted, standing up, and brushing away grass blades stuck on my uniform. Mikan had accepted assistance to get on her feet from Kokoro, whose curious gaze ricocheted from me to her and back again.

"You must be a CSI, so you and Natsume know each other?" she asked forwardly.

"We're best friends," Kokoro nodded.

"I think not," I objected, hoping Kokoro would get a clue and hide the real deal from her. She had no idea about his true identity, and I would like to keep it that way. "He's simply consulting me about the crime scene."

After swiveling intrigued eyes at me, Kokoro turned back to Mikan. "You seem like a nice, _trust-worthy_ girl Miss," said he, snubbing the dirty look I've been shooting at him. "If you don't mind me asking, are you his girlfriend?"

"Huh? Girlfriend?" she asked, wide-eyed, like a guinea pig being subjected to answer an algebraic equation in a pet talent show.

_Kokoro, I'll kill you_, I thought loudly with the intent of the idiot hearing me,to which he flashed me a goading peace sign.

"You don't need to answer that guy, he's nuts." I snapped at Mikan, who, in turn, seemed lost analyzing the question presented to her as though it was a riddle she had to solve. She wasn't actually planning on replying to that stupid question, was she? _Is that even something to think seriously about?_

I look at Kokoro, who seemed strained from the effort of controlling his mirth. This answered my worst fears.

"Hmmm, yeah! I'm his girlfriend!" she answered with dignified confidence, smacking a fist on her chest proudly. She flicked two fingers upwards, indicating the number 2. "There are two of us too!"

"Mikan. He was referring to a different kind of girlfriend," I began lividly, finally catching up with their dialogue.

"Huh? But I'm a girl and we're friends, aren't we?"

"That's not the same, you nit-wit!"

"Nit-wit?! Are you mad at me?!"

The din of our conversation was interrupted by an outburst of snorts from Kokoro, who couldn't take it any longer. I had forgotten he was here. This was probably the first time he saw me aggravating over a trivial thing. His arms clutching his stomach, looking as though he would die any moment; he guffawed and fell to the ground, startling Mikan until finally, it dwindled into an amused chuckle. "Did I say something funny? I don't get it," Mikan turned to me, blinking.

Nobody would laugh that loud over another's petty argument. I stared at Kokoro, under the pretense that he had seen something he shouldn't have. "Now I know why you don't need me," Kokoro murmured, straightened up, stifling another tirade of laughter. A puzzled Mikan heard but obviously didn't pick up the meaning behind those words; but I did.

"Who doesn't need who?" inquired Mikan.

I shot Kokoro an icy glare. "Shut up."

From the beginning, the bastard had read the girl's mind and memories, which wasn't hard to figure out anyway. But, knowing Kokoro, since my own mind is a labyrinth of anger which he dared not tread, Mikan was a blessing in disguise. He had probably searched for all those humiliations she put me in like that time she had me cross-dress as a woman and…

"Two girlfriends, ah? Really, quite the ladies man, isn't he? How about _you_ become my girlfriend instead?" he proposed, eyes twinkling. Kokoro, still with that laugh, grasped her wrists and held her small hands in his.

…not to mention testing how far he could tease me before I punch the living daylights out of him.

"Okay!" Mikan replied stupidly.

I grabbed the nearest pebble and threw it straight into Kokoro's head with all my strength and vigour, sending him hurtling to the ground on his back.

"Aaaahhh!" Kokoro howled.

"Eep!" squeaked Mikan, instinctively jumping away, openmouthed as she stared at the blood trickling from the center of the jovial man's forehead.

"There's a limit to violence you know! How could you do this to your own best friend!?" Kokoro yelled, pointing at me with resentment.

"What best friend? This coming from a man who doesn't know his limits," I said crossly, unsure why I did it myself. He just ticked me for some reason.

"Natsume, what's wrong with you?! Hey, are you all right? Here I'll lend you a hand," Mikan offered, jerking a hand toward Kokoro as he staggered to his feet. He clutched to her with his free hand and thanked her.

"Naw, I'm used to it!" said Kokoro, winking at her. "Love knows no bounds like out of bounds, as they say." Then in a low voice, muttered. "Your guard is down, _Black Kitty_."

The expression he shot me was that of a man who _had_ seen everything. It made me want to hit him again with a pebble - this time a bigger one.

His mind-reading skill is the most bothersome. My uncle wasn't an idiot to make someone like Kokoro watch over me. He must have read my mind earlier as well without me realizing it. There was no way I could talk to him normally with _this girl_ around. In a rush I padded to where Mikan stood and grabbed her tiny wrists, ignoring her protests as I pulled to the path I took earlier. "Let's go back."

"Ow, ow ow!" she whined, struggling from my grip. "Natsume, that hurt! Let go of me!" But I pretended not to hear.

"How awful! Domestic violence?" said Kokoro dramatically, with a voice mimicking a perky school girl's. He seemed to enjoy making a fool out of me. "Or caveman role-play fetish?"

I stopped in my tracks, causing Mikan to bump into my arm with an "Oof!"

It was torture to pay no heed to such a needling comment. I've had it. "Bastard! You want to die?"

Kokoro threw his head back in laughter. "I just said that to stop you. Geez, when will you ever take a joke?"

He dug for something in his pocket; and then he fished out a bottle filled to the brim with red pills, tossing it over to me. "Before you go, someone nagged me to give you these," said Kokoro, the carefree smile replaced by a dead serious one; furthermore, his tone changed into one fused with gangster pride. "Use it wisely."

At least he was sensible enough to sidetrack Mikan with such vague words. Accidentally letting my secret slip would pose to be a burden not just for him and me, but also for _her_.

"What are these?" I asked, frowning at the capsules.

"Birth-control pills."

"…"

o~o

Weeding the truth out of Kokoro with the gentlest method possible wasn't a bad thing. The pills didn't turn out to be birth-control pills but sleeping pills for my insomnia. He should have said it from the beginning. The matter with that imbecile was supposed to be done and over with. My companion, however, refused to let go of the subject.

"Seriously, Natsume! You're a demon cat! You knocked the guy unconscious! Don't you know anything but violence?" she prattled, her voice a mixture of ill-concealed displeasure and guilt for not being able to do anything.

"He'll regain consciousness in no time. No sense whining over spilled milk."

"If you get angry over a small thing you'll turn into a crazy old geezer shooting at innocent children to keep them away from your lawn!"

"No woman in her right mind would answer 'He will!' to such a stupid pill-related question, even if her chest could pass off as an ironing board!"

"What! You're mad about _that_? What's the difference?!" she argued stubbornly, unrelenting, totally dismissing the fact that I just indirectly referred to her as flat-chested. A normal woman would have reacted to that instead – but _this girl_ wasn't normal. "Pills are pills! They're vitamins of the human body and you gulp them down either way!"

I couldn't believe the logic I was hearing. "You're really stupid!"

"Natsume! Wait! You're walking too fast!" She walked in short paces beside me, desperately trying to follow my long strides. At the corner of my eye I could see her figure popping in and out, hearing the leaves rustle as we marched along the path. It didn't bother me when she abruptly vanished, thinking she's not far behind me – until I heard a feminine yelp.

By impulse I snapped around in time to see the panting brunette disreputably half-sprawled on a mushroom-run slope, her hands buried in the soft dirt you could barely see her fingers and her face flushing an embarrassed red from the shock I didn't notice there I had cantered over a slant, which someone with Mikan's height would need to jump over.

The path I took wasn't exactly the smoothest one. Her panic of being left behind must have caused her to miss it, and she easily lost her footing. I moved my gaze downwards and saw her foot stuck in the gap of protruding tree root. She stared up at me with an edgy, disturbed look on her face as though torn between asking for my help or not. Perhaps leaving her in that state would teach her a lesson or two; but I couldn't help but revel at how considerably helpless she looked, made me want to help her even more.

For the first time I noticed how her skin, despite the filth and strife smeared on her flushed face, glowed healthily under the soft light pilfering through the webbed branches hovering protectively over her small frame; suddenly, the woman who annoyed me so much looked -

"Pathetic. You should watch where you're going," I said before my thoughts ventured any further. I had no idea what I had been thinking, and tried to hide my own surprise at the muck swirling inside my head. She hung her head low, but not a single response. _This_ Mikan, the childish overambitious woman who acts before thinking – if she knew how to think at all – will always be a nuisance to me. _Always. _Yet why do I find it next to impossible to ignore her?

Warily, I sighed, recounting the hundreds of times she had gotten herself in a similar prick. To think she should have learned by now.

"Keep this up and you'll never be promoted from rookie level," I reprimanded, extending my hands to work on freeing her from the roots. "Hey, are you listening to me? It's for your own good."

Mikan murmured something, but her reply was drowned out by the chirping of birds, and the vociferous rustling leaves further in the path indicated a strong wind had blown up ahead.

"If you want to say something, moron, say it…"

I raised my head to peer at her, but couldn't muster the audacity to continue. The smiling eyes earlier were now misting with unshed tears; her lower lip quivered with emotion, and she bit it, tilted her head to the side as she vainly fought the urge to cry in front of me.

o~o

Up until we reached the Bonfire River neither of us spoke a word to each other. Mikan agreed to let me give her a piggy-back, and though I pretended to be unaware, I knew she had been quietly sobbing on my back. I could feel her limp hands over my shoulder, and each tremble made my heart ache.

I've always been harsh with her, so it surprised me that she would react that way; but, maybe, this time, I overdid it. Every person reached their breaking point, even someone like Mikan. I didn't know how to comfort her; therefore, I kept quiet all throughout the trekking toward our destination. The smell of fresh water mingling with that of wood welcomed us. Sweeping my gaze over the golden-brown riparian dotted with wildflowers of a breathless haematic shade, no matter where I look, there was no sign of the others. They probably left to take care of an important matter related to the investigation, but surely they'll be back. They couldn't have gone far.

Gently, I set her down on a levelled portion of the slope and sat next to her. The progressing minutes were spent in reticent silence.

I found myself stealing glances at my sniffling partner. Her eyes were still downcast even though her feet shifted awkwardly. I badly wanted to know what bothered her, and why she suddenly cried, but I'm never good at striking a conversation after our usual argument. Perhaps it would be wise to keep it to myself. What irritated me more was that this _little girl_ was actually getting under my skin. It was very unbecoming, especially for a man such as myself who should be thinking of other things.

"You left while we were reading the case files and studying the photos of the murder eleven years ago."

In the distance, a frog, which resembled a stone at first, leapt from its dormant position on a rock; it jumped for several feet and once again, stood still. I could feel a smile tugging at my mouth, unable to hide the relief that she saved me the trouble of talking, and it reminded me of one of her good traits. Mikan wasn't the type to stay angry or depressed at someone for long.

"That's got nothing to do with me. Your photographic memory is unparalleled. My job is to dispose of people," I responded gingerly, uncertain if she really held no bitterness about earlier since her tone sounded morose. Giving and drowning in misery is my job. There is no one else in the team who can do it. I know it better than anyone.

"You never disappear _while_ the case is being presented. Or is there something about it that you don't want to see?" she said calmly, almost with menacing accuracy. My jaw tightened with growing alarm, and what felt like a sharp pang tore through my chest. "You're making that frightening face again."

I couldn't believe she could dissect my expression even from the sidelines. How long had she been staring?

When I turned to snap something at her, anything, the muddled face had gone. She was smiling brightly; it was like she never cried. And it was a smile that rendered me thunderstruck, thinking that if I said anything hurtful, it would be a waste. "Why," I hesitated, changed my mind but decided I might as well inquire, then prodded on. "Why did…"

But she beat me to it with an apology of her own. "I'm sorry I cried earlier. It's just me being too sensitive. I thought I'll never be a great secret agent like my parents. I'm way behind everyone," she said dejectedly, but turned to me beaming. "Thank you for complimenting my photographic memory. It meant a lot. I wasn't sure if I'm being useful to team at all."

"You are," I confirmed, trying to sound nice for once, glad we were back to normal. "Don't tell the others I told you that."

Her giggles made me feel like a heavy burden had just been uplifted from my shoulders. Usually I'd find it annoying, but I guess after I've caused her anguish, the way you look at things become different. "That guy earlier was your friend, wasn't he?" she said with a smile, out of the blue.

"No. He's just consulting me over something. He thinks I'm part of the ordinary police force," I denied, trying to evade the topic, and didn't noticed she had shifted and crawled forward in my direction. My heart jammed against my chest as I felt her breath against my ear.

"You can't fool me. You don't have that hostile expression when you're around him. Don't worry, I won't tell the boss and the others," she whispered, jerking back into a sitting position, her eyes sparkling. "Even if they say we're not allowed to reveal our identities to hose who aren't involved. We're still human. Even _we_ need friends we could outside of our team."

"You're too simple-minded," I said darkly, irritated that my face is still hot. A mild breeze blew at our hair, and for a moment we relished its tender caress. We sat there on the incline overlooking the river, wondering what to say next.

"They sure are taking long huh," she remarked, looking worried.

"Forget about them. They'll be back soon," I reassured her, perhaps covertly hoping one of them met an accident somewhere. It would be tragic to have this mood ruined - not when I was beginning to enjoy this little peaceful time I'm spending with my partner. I watched as she wounded her long, slender fingers together over an arched knee. Her head inclined and she glanced sidewise. For the first time since our fight, our eyes connected.

"Hey Natsume, do you know why this river is called the Bonfire River?" she asked bluntly, drowning me in the unfathomable mirrors of her reddish-brown eyes.

"Not really. I find contemplating those things hideously revolting."

Mikan laughed her usual, contagious laugh. "That's so like you. But really, you should stop thinking about horrid things and look at your surroundings."

"Fine. Why is it called the Bonfire River?" I challenged, expecting a dream-like shallow answer.

And it was. "It's because when the sun sets, the river looks like it's surrounded by fire sprinkled with blood." There she goes, stating the obvious again.

"Well that's a riddle anybody can solve," I replied impatiently, looking away to stare at the panorama of flames around us. "Natsume, the color of your eyes is similar to that one man who died here eleven years ago. The boss has his photo with him, but I couldn't forget it."

Her keen words rammed me into stunned silence. "What made you think we're alike? There are dozens of men with eyes like mine."

"True," she contemplated, bringing a finger to her lips. "But when I look into your eyes, there are strong unwavering flames behind them which reminded me so much of this river. It's the same for that man."

"How'd _you_ know? Didn't the bullet bore through his eyes?"

"I was referring to the identification photo, duh."

"You can't theorize something like that from a photo."

"Yeah I guess not," she complied, sighing. "But still, his eyes were blood-red like yours! And though the flames came off strongly – to me, he seems like a kind man."

"How can you tell?" I probed, finding myself curious though a little disturbed.

Her forehead knotted. "If you stayed you would have seen it!" she paused, her outburst of energy reduced into an absorbed quiescence, "When you look closely at his lips, he was smiling, and when the boss read through his case files, it was indicated there that he mentioned of a son. I just thought, maybe, his son must have been lonely but has grown into a kind, generous person."

Mikan was right about my father, but she was definitely wrong about me. My father hated violence, and would always tell me fighting fire with fire would only lead to destruction. He'd probably be disappointed if he saw what I'd become. My heart was already shrouded in darkness, and my hands, blood-stained. I didn't want to hear anymore.

"Kind people have no room in this city unless they're strong. That man died and left his son all alone because he's weak. You're disillusioning yourself if you think that son would grow up to be a kind," I said in my blandest voice. "If that son's still alive, it's because he learned the rules of surviving in this damned city."

"I don't believe that. If anything, the son must be trying his hardest to hide his emotions. I believe he'll find someone whom he can show his weakness too," she replied pensively, then flipped her gaze back towards me. "It's okay to release our burdens every now and then."

I pondered over her startling words. Mikan couldn't possibly know about me. Impossible. How could she possibly empathize with a person she has never even met?

"I was just thinking that maybe you've got a similar situation since you rarely speak about yourself," she reasoned wistfully, drawing her knees close to her chest with a light smile. The heavy atmosphere between us vanished. "But I guess I'll learn more about you in time. We're partners aren't we?"

"Stop talking like we're friends. You're better off not knowing."

"You're making a weird face."

"Am I?"

"You look tired."

"Do I?"

"Why don't you rest your head on my shoulder?" she offered.

The treacherous whitewater river elongated as far as the eyes can see, winding in a peculiar manner at the western end where it disappeared somewhere flanked between tawny knolls of earth; there were no visible mountains and clouds, only the thick trees standing proudly against the back drop of a magnificent, intensifying red orange sky.

Below everything, a man quietly leaned on a woman's shoulder.

o~o

Eleven years ago, my father died near the Bonfire River. He was the only person I cared for, the most important person in the world to me. Not once did I shed a tear. The world stopped that day, and I decided to keep running in pursuit of a childhood I have lost. Inside me ran blood possessed by vengeance itself. This grudge is what I lived for.

_A river isn't a river when it's not running; when it does stop, it becomes a waterfall like our tears. _

My father told me this that morning on the same day he passed away. It was the last thing I heard him say, and as a child it confused me. I could only remember his back disappearing into the doorway, and I feeling strange for even as a kid, I could still sense these things. He probably knew he was going to die. I wish I could have stopped him. _I love you. _That's what I wanted to say. If I had told him that and urged him not to go, could I have prevented his death?

It must have been hilarious to see a grown man leaning on a woman's bony shoulder, sobbing like a child with tears running down his cheeks. I returned to being that scared little boy who couldn't even save his father. It's funny. When we're alone like this, I didn't feel the least bit uncomfortable looking weak around Mikan. She _must_ have known that I've broken down, but if she did, she pretended not to notice and kept it to herself. I don't know how I feel about her, if this is really love; she, however, is definitely someone I don't want to lose.

Talking in that sense, yes, perhaps, these feelings are that of love. This coming from a feared man who killed many. Yet I'm also a man afraid of many things.

I am an agent standing between the roads of vengeance & felicity.

Why am I here?

What do I live for?

Why do I keep running?

Now I know what my father meant that day before he passed away, and to this river I made a silent vow.

Until the day I can find myself, and the blood stained river stops running, my love will remain hidden. But for her, I will stand still - just this once.

o~o

**The End.**

* * *

_Writing Commence Date:_ July 9, 2009

_Date Finished: _July 15, 2009

_Date of Last Revision:_ July 16, 2009 (Quick Spell-Check)

_

* * *

_**End Notes: **No kiss, sorry. Natsume is still in the messed-up stage of denying his feelings. Mikan is still trying to get Natsume to be her friend without seeing him as more than that. Some questions are left unanswered like _"Who's the man who killed Natsume's father?"_ and _"What will happen if they find out Natsume's true identity?" _and the classic _"Will Mikan end up with Natsume?"_ I don't know if I should turn this into a series, but for now this could stand alone. I don't know how the rest fits in. I'll leave the thinking to you. Writing this fic made me realize I am a lazy, inefficient ass for my inability to write what I want.

This is an entry to the NatsumeSeries Contest, you'll enjoy reading the other entries (though I haven't done so myself due to time constraints). I'm certain they're better than mine.


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